


Breaking Tradition

by They_Call_Him_Rat_Boy



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Aliens, Destiny, Fallen | Eliksni Guardian (Destiny), Fireteam (Destiny), Hunter Guardian (Destiny), Original Character(s), Post-Game: Destiny 2, Science Fiction, The Vanguard (Destiny), Titan Guardian (Destiny), Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/They_Call_Him_Rat_Boy/pseuds/They_Call_Him_Rat_Boy
Summary: A collection of adventures revolving around a fireteam of two guardians, and their new Eliksni ally
Kudos: 13





	Breaking Tradition

Earth had long since left almost entirely barren by it’s former inhabitants, holled up within the confines of a single city. The Eliksni had never understood this himself, why confine oneself to such a small space, when you have such a vast world to occupy? The House of Devils had long since fallen to shambles, becoming disorderly, unorganized. The Eliksni had heard that a new house, a house of dusk had been formed, but he saw better not to meddle himself with such affairs. Why would he? Only to watch as his brethren were slaughtered by those who carried the gift of the Great Machine. He knew the others resented those who called themselves ‘Guardians’, but he could not bring himself to do the same. He had heard tales of when the Eliksni were proud and prideful, having the Great Machine’s gift themselves. He knew that the Eliksni would do the same, to fight to defend this gift they had been given. And so he understood why those who were gifted fought.

Despite that understanding, the gift of the great machine still alured him. He often found himself scrounging around the ruins for the pieces of their strange machines that the gifted carried with them. Like little servitors, he would say. He did not know why he was so fascinated with these little servitors, but regardless, it was a fixation he had. He had made himself a collection of these little pieces. Small triangular plates of different color and size, a few broken spheres with cracked lenses. He viewed them as puzzles, trying to understand their complex geometry. He kept this collection, as well as his other belongings, within the confines of a rusted storage container that had been aimlessly tumbled to the side of the road. He didn’t have much, a makeshift sleeping arrangement, and a few robes and rags in the colors of the devils that he tried not to wear anymore. In the corner was a broken servitor, cracked and picked apart. The Eliksni would use it to regulate his Ether consumption, often scrounging around for any spare tanks or reserves of Ether he could get his hands on, though his luck had been rather rubbish lately. 

Lately, the gifted ones had been patrolling closer and closer to his camp, much to his dismay. He knew an interaction with them would likely go sour, and thought it best to avoid them, though he dreaded the day he would have to move further away. He had found the remains of a broken sidearm, the function of which had been ruined, but it kept up the appearance, hoping he would be able to use it, in case he needed to scare off any intruders. He was hopeful when it came to that, trusting that he might even be able to handle himself in such a situation. 

The Eliksni sat within his small camp, working with the small, geometric plates he had collected. He tried to fit them together, trying to find out a solution to a puzzle he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He had spent days, weeks trying to figure it out, much to no avail. His fingers were spread wide as he tried to hold everything in place, trying his best to mimic a design he had only gotten faint glimpses of. The Eliksni groaned in frustration, his efforts having no pay off whatsoever, though as he slid a new piece in, what could only be described as a miracle happened. The small servitor sparked, it’s lens illuminating, as it started to weakly hover above the ground. The Eliksni marveled at what he saw, eyes wide. The strange device spoke in a language he did not understand, as he heard the words.  
“You are not my Guardian…”


End file.
